


Lore

by herbailiwick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Characters Reading Fanfiction, Fanfiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:19:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://mooseley-fics.tumblr.com/post/66345164841/crowley-catches-sam-reading-a-mooseley-fanfiction">mooseley-fics</a> prompt: "Crowley catches Sam reading a mooseley fanfiction."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lore

Sam's new clock is ticking, time expanding the room, the distance between demon and human, between once-ally and now-something, and Sam doesn't exactly know what to say. 

"My, my," Crowley says. And it breaks the hunter's silence.

"Yeah, well," the plaid shoulders shrug. He means to say something else. He means to point out that pairing him with demons seems to be a thing for the people of the internet, that the fic has to do with stuff that happened to him while Lucifer was still a threat, that he didn't actually _write_ it. 

"Seriously, Sam." Crowley leans over him slightly to hit the down arrow key, clucking his tongue with a smirk. His closeness makes Sam sigh and loose his tension because sometimes it's nice to have Crowley be in control of a conversation. "I didn't think you were the type to be so...curious."

Sam swallows. "Ha. Yeah, well. Guess I am." It sounds bolder than he meant it to. He's not sure what kind of "curious" Crowley means, but, clearly he's guilty of every kind of curiosity the situation implies.

Crowley's eyes search the page some more until Sam just hands the laptop over and Crowley takes a seat next to him on the bed.

Sam waits. He kind of wants to know what Crowley thinks, now that they're on the same page literally, the same webpage.

"They're not wrong, you know," the demon says. 

"That I have a thing for demons?" Sam teases, only slightly worried at the fact he's flirting.

"That I care about you. The facts are all there," Crowley says proudly.

Proud? How could he be proud, admitting he cares about Sam? What's the point? Where would his reward for saying that be? It takes a number of ticks of the clock for Sam to register that he's being handed back the laptop.

"You really did have a thing with Brady, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Sam admits. He closes off his thoughts again, setting the warm base of the laptop on the bed next to him. He eyes the keyboard because it isn't Crowley.

"Boy, you really know how to pick 'em. Met him and Meg. Read about Ruby."

Sam's eyes flash with the injustice of the topic, and he looks up. "Okay, we're not doing this," he points out, voice cool. "We're not gonna discuss this. This," he gestures to the screen, "is a piece of literature written by someone who thinks neither of us are real. We could sit here not saying anything, but I'm sure you had an actual reason for stopping by the bunker."

Crowley sizes Sam up for a moment. Sam adds, "Unless you just missed me." There's a bitterness in the tone that has everything to do with expecting the worst and the best at the same time for way too long.

"Oh, nothing I couldn't talk to Dean about instead, Moose."

"Then maybe you should," Sam says, taking another look at the laptop, back turned toward Crowley.

"I wouldn't mind seeing how that story ends," Crowley's voice calls, teasing. The plaid shoulders tense. Asshole, thinks Sam. Grade-A asshole. I'm never gonna live this down.

"Do you really want _Dean_ debriefing me, when it could be you?"

"Bye, Crowley."

The clock ticks on after Crowley's gone. The lines of text run together. He has to do some actual research to pass the time.

When Sam asks why Crowley stopped by, Dean says he doesn't know. 

"Didn't he talk it out with you?" Sam asks.

"No." Sam's more confused than Dean is at that point. As Dean reminds him to keep an eye on Crowley, his phone buzzes with a new text. 

His eyes dart from the screen of his phone to Dean, then slide back down again to eye the devil emoticon.

"What?" Dean asks.

"Uh. He's gonna stop by again tomorrow. So, I guess we'll find out then," Sam says.

He deletes the laptop's browser history with a hint of guilt, but not until after he finishes the story. After all, Crowley'd said he was interested.

Ten minutes later, he almost wishes he doesn't know that it ends with drinks, a philosophical discussion, and the promise of sex. Because that sounds pretty good.

The clock and the image of the devilish emoticon haunt him until Crowley's follow-up visit. He hesitates in his favorite plaid shirt when Crowley jumps right into asking him how the story ended, no preamble.

It's probably a test. Maybe Crowley finished it on his own already. Maybe he just wants to know that Sam did too. Maybe he's just trying to embarrass him.

He recaps it like he would his own father's journal. Like the fictional events of non-fictional people are as important as lore that could save a person's life.

For a moment, as he watches Crowley react, he forgets that there was another reason for Crowley's visit, that he was supposed to be updating them.

Crowley's eyes appraise his shirt. They don't find it lacking.

"Are there more stories where that came from?" Crowley asks.

Sam doesn't even know. He glances at his closed laptop. Plaid shoulders shrug. 

It's a problem best solved, as all his favorites are, with a broad search for specific and mysterious text.


End file.
